#the gender dysphoria has been getting bad lately

[dilfsuzanneyk]

.

[murderandcoffee]

I finally have a binder again and I KNOW I shouldn't wear it to my tattoo appointment tomorrow but GOD do I want to

[reikunrei]

:/

[velvetvexations]

I'm going to try answering multiple asks in one posts to cut down on hitting my limit and declutter lol

I believe they were hyping themselves up for being a transfem ally who got to clapback to transmisogyny in a way that was totally epic and cool and they want us to fuck them so bad

What annoys me even more about this is that they still call baeddel a slur even though it was brought back for the first time since literally the Middle Ages by a group most agree were completely fucked up, and it's like, hey, shouldn't other people be able to use baeddel in that retaliatory way then? Why can't they have their justice slur?

We understand. One of us identifies as as cis woman and another as a cis man, although funnily enough, while the trans woman and two non-binary members also have physical dysphoria, the cis man is is probably the one who feels it the hardest including wanting giant knockers. We're a strange bunch. It's okay for systems to have a complicated relationship with their body.

We love you, all of you, and we hope she feels the solidarity. <3

Honestly I'm really tempted to next time I shave just because of how good I've been feeling about my butchness lately because of Velvet Nation, and also wanting to triple dog dare transradfems to say I don't look feminine enough to be a trans woman.

tpwrtrmnky 🤝 JK Rowling

creating a series beloved by queer people only to unfortunately have your brain poisoned into obsessively perpetuating transphobia

huge W for trans women though because she speedran that shit

I still don't think we need to be questioning her claims about being ostracized and I'd seriously prefer we stop doing that. It is, however, extremely weird she's still ranting about this like a week or two later, it's pretty clear she bare minimum has a problem with melodrama and should probably limit her engagement with the internet until she can get herself together to not collapse like this when people gently point out something she said not vibing.

Sometimes it feels like transradfems who act like egg jokes are vitally necessary to liberation have the exact same mindset as cis lesbians obsessed with "losing" AFAB people to being trans.

yeah, well, maybe so, but looking like a woman is a privilege and you're a gender traitor

I literally quit Reddit and came back to Tumblr because it drove me fucking insane that the D20 fandom kept calling a high schooler a nepo baby because her dad was a real estate agent.

High fashion, honestly.

Yes.

the thing you have to understand is that being a masculine man is bad but so is being a feminine man, being a man is just bad, that's why trans women are transitioning out of it

I'm so cool and sexy

Thank you anon!

Radical feminism, trans or trans exclusive, is in fact a cult, including frequently attempting to isolate minors away from outside support networks. TERFs and transradfems are the most miserable and sickening mirrors of each other.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Renee rapp (sorry for spelling) having a sibling who has gender dysphoria and her being a comforting sister and maybe writing a song to try help them?

I'll Be There

|| Reneé Rapp x platonic!nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; heavy descriptions of dysphoria from reader, reader struggling to sleep dealing with anxiety/stress, Reneé concerned about reader, hurt/comfort

|| Summary; when reader's feeling down about their gender, Reneé comes over to comfort her sibling.

Requests open!

Started; october 30th

Finished; october 30th

~~~

3;00am. Another rough night. Your thoughts plagued you with reminders about who you really were. How you weren't born the way you wanted to be. A constant stabbing feeling in your mind that never seemed to go away. It made you feel sick to your stomach, your sleeps restless. You tossed around in your bed, trying to get comfortable despite the mental thorn in your side until you finally gave up on sleep. Reaching over for your phone, you called your sister. Knowing full well that it was nearing 4;00am by this point. The blaring glow of your clock on your bedside table a constant reminder of the late hour.

When your sister answered, her voice was groggy and laced with sleep. You could tell you'd just woken up Reneé by the sound of her rasp and you felt bad. But you felt like she was the only one who even remotely understood what you were going through," Y/N?" She asked.

You fought back the tears as you tried to voice your thoughts to your popstar sibling," I- I can't sleep." You murmured, that was all you had to say for Reneé to feel concern flood through her. She was already concerned as it was, given how late it had been and that you only ever called her this late when you really needed something. She sat up in bed, swinging her feet over the edge as she mentally debated whether you would need her to come to you or not.

"What's wrong?" Reneé asked, you could hear the concern in her tone mixed in with the sleep that laced her voice.

"Can you come over? I know it's late, I'm sorry- but I keep getting caught in my head and I just- need you." You rambled out, unable to say the full reason why you had called her. You'd probably tell her about the dysphoria later, but.. you just couldn't right now. It was still too fresh in your mind.

"I'll be there, just give me a few minutes, yeah?" Reneé's voice was soft, she was always soft with you. And beyond protective. She knew you were going through a lot, being nonbinary wasn't easy. Reneé tried to make sure she was there every step of the way. She got herself out of bed and made herself look decent enough. Clothes, teeth brushed, just the basics. When she finally got to your place, it was nearing 4;45am. The hours weren't ideal, but for you? Reneé would lose as much sleep as she needed to make sure you were okay.

She didn't even knock, having her own key to your apartment she opened the door. Reneé's obviously been to your place a number of times for various occasions and hang outs, so she had no problem finding her way to your room. Reneé gently opened the door and saw you curled up in your blankets, you'd clearly been crying. She could see the fresh streaks on your face. Reneé frowned and walked over, settling herself beside you as her hand rested on your knee.

"Reneé.." You mumbled with a little pout, looking up at your sister. Her frown became a gentle smile as you looked at her, her eyes full of sympathy. Reneé shifted herself to be closer to you, holding you in her arms.

"Do you wanna talk?" She asked carefully and you nodded. Feeling ready; though you took a breath. Getting your thoughts together.

"I just... been really struggling with my gender. It makes me feel- sick, like something's wrong.. I don't know." You mumbled, Reneé's fingers gently brushed against your arms as she listened to you. Her head resting against the side of yours.

"Y/N.." She whispered, glancing down at you as she thought carefully about what to say. Reneé hated to see you struggle this much, to know it was causing you this much pain. She was beyond grateful though that you reached out to her. Feeling relief that you trusted her as much as you did. "Do you want comfort or advice?"

"Comfort.." You replied, burying yourself against her. You could feel as she held you a little tighter but you made no complaints. It was exactly what you needed from her.

"I think.. you need to let your mind rest. You're stressed about the little things but you're already perfect the way you are. You can be nonbinary and still present femme or masc. It doesn't make you any less valid or less nonbinary. There is no set look for nonbinary, despite what the media may push. That's why it's nonbinary, right?" Reneé looked into your eyes and you listened to her every word. Taking in what she was telling you. It helped. You always got stuck on the media representation of nonbinary. Forgetting that that's only one version. There is no set way to be nonbinary. Or genderfluid. Or anything. That's the beauty of it. It was set to you. Your preferences. Nobody else's opinions should matter. It was your gender.

You looked into her eyes and managed a small smile, feeling yourself relax against her. "Thanks, Neé... I forget about that." You murmured and she nodded.

"Always." Reneé murmured, keeping you close against her as you finally let yourself fully relax. Feeling as your mind drifted off into sleep.

When you awoke the next morning, Reneé was still there. Your apartment was cleaned thanks to her, it'd been getting a little bad lately cause you haven't had the time or energy. So she did some cleaning.

She walked into your room a moment after you woke up and smiled when she saw you awake." How you feeling?" Reneé asked. You gave her a gentle nod, not having the energy to talk yet but she didn't mind. Reneé knew you struggled with waking up in the morning. "I wanted to wait until you were feeling a little better before I showed you this.. but I think you might like it." She sat down beside you and pulled out her phone, you watched her with curiosity. Head rested on Reneé's shoulder.

She went to her files and started playing a song you hadn't heard before. "I wrote this with you in mind. It's about gender struggles and it's meant to like.. provide comfort. Both for you and other people." As the song played, it reminded you a bit of 23. With the way she sings her lyrics and the music in the background. Your eyes watered a bit and looked to Reneé. Yeah, it was just what you needed.

"Thank you.. that's- absolutely perfect, Neé." Reneé relaxed at your words; having wondered what you would think. That made her feel good about it. If you liked it, other people might too.

"I was thinking about calling it 'Y/N' to dedicate it to you." Reneé explained, your smile widened. A song with your name?

"That's fine with me." You nodded, she mirrored your smile and held you close again. You had a pretty amazing sister.

[irrlicht-writes]

Behind-the-scenes hc thingies for Cash or Check! I probably forgot like half of them, lol.

Are they hc's when it's my own fanfic...?

-Alastor dislikes sex -Alastor didn't start out liking kissing, but kissing Vox makes his lips tingle and that's quite interesting let's keep doing it -He likes feeling weight on top of him (Vox optional) someone should introduce him to weighted blankets -He likes sleeping on top of Vox so he can hear/feel his heartbeat (Vox not optional, sadly) -He keeps everything Vox gave him, even if he might forget he has it in the first place -He doesn't mind following in a dance but he usually ends up leading anyway even if he keeps doing the woman's steps -He used to go to every opening night of Vox's movies and talked about them in his radio show when he knew Vox wouldn't be listening -Not that Vox will ever know, but when there was a competitor, they would "miraculously" disappear -He loves Vox, but he doesn't have the words to say it -If things had gone differently, he might've been open to having sex with Vox one day willingly -He has stolen some of Vox's clothes but has never worn them (he's unsure why he took them it just felt right) -He dreams about eating Vox sometimes -Vox is special to him, even more so than Niffty -Alastor doesn't know how or when he fell in love, Vox was just something entertaining/interesting at first before that shifted -Vox gets forgiven for everything, he can literally do no wrong (that doesn't mean he won't get shamed to oblivion for mistakes it's just that Alastor will forgive and move on) -He can yap about Vox for hours and not realise what he sounds like (Husk is a prefered suffering victim) -He has gender dysphoria (usually it's hardly an issue but lately it's been getting worse I wonder why) -As a child, he killed fifteen dogs in eight months' time -He tried to kill himself twice but didn't succeed -He's far-sighted but due to convience, he'd wear his glasses all the time -Alastor's initial, unspoken reaction to Vox's first proposal was "Are you fucking insane?" -In the same vein, he got a ring custom-made for Vox (it's white-blue with shark motif) -Alastor rarely ever gets in the mood and when he does it's more like a chore and Vox is not required to assist (Murder only gets him in the mood for more murder) -He indulges Niffty in her roleplay sometimes (pretending to be the big bad evil king with her as his princess) (Husk usually serves as the loyal royal steed (he's not being asked)) -Alastor likes soft things, although he's not entirely aware of it -He's a tease and likes to flirt but he's also prone to just walking off in a conversation (Flirting only goes one way, not the other) -Alastor's favourite position is none of them -He is the last to sleep and the first to wake -Unless Vox is there; when Vox is there Alastor falls asleep as soon as he gets tired

-Vox loves Alastor -He likes it whenever Alastor would put his hands on Vox's chest (it makes him feel big and strong and manly) -He loves how dainty Alastor is -His small waist is making Vox feel things that are not pg13 -Alastor absolutely terrifies him, like a beautiful monster -Vox used to be more creative, but it slowly drained out of him -Rodriguez doesn't work for him anymore, but they still have contact from time to time -Vox had been married with three children he didn't care for and often forgets even existed -He used to coerce young girls to have sex with him -Alastor is the first one he's tried his bisexual side with -He loves Al, but he also loves Val -When having sex with Val, he sometimes accidentally calls him Al (which Val often just hears as his own name so Vox's screen is spared destruction) -Vox's favourite position is all of them -Even while surrounded by highly skilled technicians, Vox usually only trusts himself and Alastor to handle the tech in his head -He has more wet dreams about Alastor than he likes to admit -He loves the soft fur on Alastor's body -While he won't pry, he'd really like to know the stories of Alastor's numerous scars - they are a part of the man he loves -Vox loves Alastor so, so much -He's not into feet at all, but Alastor's hooves are a completely different thing -His clothes on Alastor drive him insane -Calling Alastor a girl is a little like a game to him - he likes to be a big man -He doesn't really understand Alastor most of the time but he hardly lets that stop him -He'll never tell anyone but Alastor squeaks quietly when he sleeps

-Niffty's human name was Alice and she got adopted from an orphanage when she was seven -Neither of them know it, or will ever find out, but Niffty is in fact Alastor's biological daughter -Alastor yapped about Vox on three seperate occasions, so Rosie had the man investigated before concluding that her bestie had, yet again, went and picked up a stray -Velvette is a lesbian and considers Bunny to be "one of the girls" -Velvette and Alastor play HellVille together

-Everything you see posted is the first draft (let's not count notes) which probably makes me a bad author :) -I also probably forgot about half of what I wanted to write here :)

[2000sangel]

Hi! I was curious if you were open to writing a little bit of angst/fluff with Angel Dust who is with a transmasc reader who is having a really hard time with his gender dysphoria bc of how many people have told him things like "you'll never be a real man" among other bad transphobic things, and the reader is just in a really bad headspace since Angel is gay and he thinks he doesn't really like him since he's not a "real man" and it ends with Angel comforting him and reassuring him? (totally not projecting at alllllllll. Please don't feel pressured to write anything on this if it makes you uncomfortable though!)

Hello! Of course I came up with something for you, as I am transmasc myself so I could really throw all of my thoughts in there and make this somewhat realistic, ahah!

WARNING for : transphobia and heavy dysphoria - Angel is here to the rescue though :)

*･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.* *･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.* *･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.*

Heart to Heart

A date.

Your lovely boyfriend, Angel, had invited you on a little intimate date in his room for Valentine’s day; just you, him, cosy clothes, a sappy movie playing on TV and a few snacks to chew on during the evening. Usually you wouldn’t be against this at all, it actually sounds like a wonderful night, throw in there a couple kisses and one might even call it perfect – but as of right now, everything you’re trying on looks wrong.

The first shirt you try on looks wrong, your favourite sweater looks wrong, the overly comfortable sweater Angel himself gifted you for your first year anniversary looks and feels wrong. Actually, the right words for it would be that none of these make you look flat on the chest enough.

No matter how much you tuck the top part of your outfit into your pants, or how much you try to adjust your chest into your already uncomfortable binder – just like those assholes had said under the pictures you posted on your social media earlier in the day, you will never look like nor be a real man.

It’s okay though, because there’s at least one person who would never doubt your identity in this Hell of a place, and that person is your boyfriend, Angel.

...right?

With a deep breath, you open your wardrobe for what feels like the hundredth time this evening, and carefully scan your options. You have your mind set on changing your whole outfit, not just the top part, now.

The pair of pants Charlie gifted you a while ago, hoping they’d be the right size since she only asked you about it once: while you manage to wear them on most days, they’re too much on the skinny side today, they show your hips’ shape and you don’t like it. Are they even masculine enough?

That one sweatshirt you just got, the one that’s your favourite color: it’s just too tight, it’s going to show your binder bump. As if there’s a way to fully hide that.

You could wear comfortable shorts – no, they’d reveal too much, show the shapes that a real man shouldn’t have. And that your boyfriend especially would not want to see tonight.

While rummaging through your wardrobe even more you try to keep your mind away from any thought of Angel not accepting you for who you are; it wouldn’t make sense, you’ve been dating for a while now, and surely he wouldn’t be so dumb to keep the relationship going if he didn’t like his partner.

He has also expressed how much he loves you many times in the past, showed signs of affection he denies others, accepted your affection countless times.

And yet, something in your brain just isn’t right today. All because of a few rude comments. How stupid can you be?

You give one last glimpse at the mirror on your right, eyeing the body you’ve grown accustomed to hate. But tonight it seems like your hatred is even more persistent than usual.

You love Angel so much, there’s no denying that. You wish you could just dress up and get out of your room. It’s probably too late anyways at this point, you’ve spent an eternity looking for the perfect outfit that doesn’t exist without even looking at the time, and now it’s too late to even try to show up in front of his room.

Three distinct knocks at your door distract you from your negative thoughts;

“Sugar? Are you still in there?”

It’s Angel’s voice, it holds a preoccupied tone. With a quick look at the clock you realize it’s been past half an hour since the original time for your date.

You reply, meek and defeated; “Yes, sorry I’m late.”

“It’s okay, can I open the door?”

You can’t help but notice how gentle and careful he sounds when he talks to you, in comparison to how he talks to others; it gives you the courage to answer his question, though you still hide your body with your arms as much as you can before doing so.

“Yes, come in.”

Anthony carefully steps inside, his brows furrowed in concern though he manages a soft smiles as soon as he spots you sitting on your bed.

“Hey Toots, I was worried you know? You’re still choosing your outfit? Ha-“

Before he can finish his sentence you blurt out yours without thinking about it twice, your eyes barely holding in tears;

“Anthony, I know this is stupid because you literally just invited me on a date but- do you actually like me? I was just thinking...”

There’s a pause as you’re struggling to find the right words. Your boyfriend knows to wait until you’ve found them, so he gives you a few seconds to formulate your sentence.

“...This.” you gesture at yourself, your body; “Are you okay with this? I’m not a real man, can’t even get top surgery yet. I’m sorry, it’s just...hard to believe that you would see me as one sometimes, especially today.”

You struggle to look into his eyes, fearing his response, but once you find the guts to do so you’re met with nothing but love in them. Anthony pulls you closer with one of his arms, and you immediately find comfort into the warmth his body emanates, letting your tears finally roll down your cheeks.

“Baby, I’ve got to say,” he chuckles, “That is a bit silly, of course I’m okay with you being trans. We’ve been dating for what, a year? And almost three months, I’m so good at remembering – I wouldn’t be with you for this much if I wasn’t okay with it. The only thing I would be is a huge dick actually.”

With the arm that’s lovingly draped across your back he lightly shakes you around at the end of his sentence, which makes you smile.

“So...” you trail off, shyness suddenly taking over.

“Yes, I love you and I think you’re very handsome. Kiss?”

You’re a little surprised by the question in such a moment, but you’d never deny your lover a kiss especially after he comforted you on a subject you feel very vulnerable on. Once you nod though, you’re surprised to find out that Anthony’s little kisses end up landing on your tear stained cheeks, as if this was his way of drying them up.

“I love you too!” you return between giggles and kisses.

He pulls you into a hug, enveloping you with all his four arms, and you bury your face into his chest – he’s wearing what you consider to be his softest sweater, a pink chenille one he always wears when he wants to be both comfortable and cute.

“You still wanna watch something together? You can take some time to pick something comfortable, darlin’.” He reassures you after a while, and you accept his proposal.

You decide to let him stay as you look through your wardrobe with a clearer mind now, even though sometimes you still let an occasional ‘this would make me look less masculine’ slip out. But Anthony always has the right remark to make you feel sliiightly better;

“See, I didn’t pick this because it’s too... tight. Too bad since it’s one of my favourites.”

“Don’t let that stop ya handsome, you’ve got me drooling and looking at you with heart eyes whenever you wear it.”

You can’t help but laugh at that one, though.

“Hey! I’m serious!!”

“Shush Tony! Don’t make me laugh when the rest of the hotel is sleeping!”

You do settle on something warm after a while, and with your boyfriend offering you encouraging words and looks it takes you half the time. He reassures you once again that he loves you before you two leave your room to go relax in his – it’s much more equipped for this kind of thing, being filled with plushies and fuzzy blankets -.

You spend a lovely little Valentine’s Day together, with your limbs intertwined and exchanging little kisses once in a while. Anthony has the cute habit of giving you one on the forehead every single time the characters on screen share one, you find this and many other things about him very endearing... just as he does with you and your habits.

[genderisareligion]

There are theories that try to explain prevalence of TIMs in the past and TIFs today, but I feel like they fail to explain the shift itself. Do you have any thoughts why did it happen?

I have my opinion on Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria (ROGD) but I find it best to source doctors who've researched it on this topic

Section A is full of evidence towards ROGD

My opinion is that this is the result of internet porn culture being allowed to be the cesspool it is for this long and the current flavor of feminist backlash to our gains in the late 2000s and 2010s, such as lesbians gaining marriage equality. In America at least we had an outspoken well educated Black first lady for the first time and I was on Tumblr over a decade ago and standard global misandry feminism was considered cool. Now there are eight million code words for the word female and eight million pronouns and microidentities and "misandry is the first step to being a TERF just so you know!!" lol. Lesbians didn't even get to enjoy marriage equality before suddenly we were witches to be burned at the stake for not accepting dick, like suddenly we'd been transported to 2002 and I was back in church.

Many women don't identify with the ideal coomer's "woman." Many don't want to imitate porn, and many men are asking for that now, either in the way that Hollywood was been going more the way of soft porn these last few decades or in their personal relationships, and more women are single now than ever, yes? ("""Male loneliness crisis""") The impact of that many hours of rape footage, sometimes of children, being widely available to young minds is not being taken seriously. The impact of comparing yourself to those women, hearing all the men and boys you know discuss them like trading cards. Wanting to be the furthest thing from that, especially as someone same sex attracted, hating your body because it's not surgically altered.

I understand why Gen Z flocks to gender. I considered "coming out as nonbinary" briefly myself in 2014. But now I just know I have DID, and what happened to me as a child made me want to leave my body, and I'd rather get to the root of that with therapy and quieting my "male parts" instead of further dissociating and considering parts of my own self "other." The eating disorder as a Black woman has been about trying to get some sense of control back, having no curves that are visible to men, as I was told as a teen things like I was "lying about being a virgin because of my hips."

I think if sexual harrassment from boys was as bad as it was in my day before social media took off it must be hell now and a lot of these TIFs as girls were/are experiencing various forms of dissociation from exposure to so much violent misogyny, online and off, which can't be treated with surgery and further dissociating.

[ally1uvsu]

The dead can’t plead. / Squid game x Dystopian Au

⨉⠀⠀─⠀⠀Days gone by .⠀›⠀first meetings⠀‎ꪆৎ

·⠀warnings info⠀· previous — pt.1

summary; From unexpected meetings after 91 days of isolation, to getting stuck in an apartment complex for a night, Nam-gyu finally has contact with human life. But maybe things don’t work out as much as he expected they would when getting out.

info; Killing, blood, cursing, smoking, mentions of being in drugs, death threats, guns, mentions of gender dysphoria.

notes; IM SORRY THIS TOOK SOOOO LONG GUYS.. I got too caught up and I couldn’t stay up at night too late either so yeah.. I had to find time in my schedule to write.. but anyways enjoy y’all >_<

⨉⠀⠀─⠀⠀Story below this .⠀›⠀enjoy !⠀‎ꪆৎ

Nam-gyu wasn't totally sure how many days had gone by, normally, he'd keep track of how every day went by in a notebook, but maybe he could have miscounted. The silence would always be present, counting out the groans and shuffling of the undead outside.

His head was tilted back as he closed his eyes, maybe the lack of any human interaction was slowly getting to him, maybe he was finally going insane. The pen in his hands that long stopped being constantly shaky was tapping the edge of the notebook he managed to find in here.

The days seemed to be all jumbled up into a mess, was it Wednesday? Thursday? What day of the week was it? All Nam-gyu ever wrote down is that it had been 91 days. The calendar hanging on the wall flickered ever so slightly, Nam-gyu was too lazy to count the days. It seemed that everything here was so boring and lonely that he didn't quite mind anymore, his brain began to get lazy, all he ever did was think.

Maybe this wasn't so bad, no debts to worry about, he had food, water, he had a way to keep himself alive. His eyes pried open again as his gaze was met with whatever he was writing;

Day 91.

"Maybe I am indeed slowly going insane, I don't really doubt I am. It's been 91 days since it happened, I've tried every single radio station, constantly keep flickering the channels on the TV- well, that was until the battery of the remote control died. Still, no one ever came by. I guess it's safe to say I'm the only one alive here, it's been a long time since I've seen someone's face rather than the mangled up faces outside. If someone out there is alive, they're probably miles away from me.

The noises outside don't bother me anymore, what bothers me is not being able to barely do anything. I haven't checked the conditions outside today, at least not yet. I've been wondering if I should leave, this place is safe and has food and  water,  but it's stupid to believe that it will last forever. Going out there is equivalent to having a death wish, but so is staying in here forever, I'll eventually die of starvation or dehydration. . ."

He wasn't quite sure what to write anymore, so instead, he set the notebook down along with the pencil and stood up. Nam-gyu figured out around 27 days ago that these things were blind, lately he has been pondering on what to call them. Calling them zombies sounds silly, now that it actually happened. Probably should call them rotters since they are in process of decomposition.

He tucked his hair, already greasy to the point Nam-gyu was deadly uncomfortable, behind his ears. He stared out the window, the situation was surprisingly way better than before- less of those things roamed the streets, maybe they scattered off somewhere. Then, his gaze followed to the shelves, he had enough food to last himself another week or so.

He then looked at the refrigerator that had long stopped working, and yet he still kept it so he would have somewhere to put shit to drink. He had water, enough to last him a week, just like the food. And iced tea. Maybe he really would have to leave eventually.

Well, he'd just have to keep himself entertained until then. He stared off into some point outside, he could write poetry, learn how to draw, write a story.. and it all was ruined the second he heard a large banging on the back door.

Nam-gyu cursed under his breath, it was probably a rotter or some shit. But still, you could never be too careful. He reached for the piece of broomstick he found somewhere in the bathroom, walking towards the back door and holding it up defensively.

All he could hear was banging, and maybe mingled ragged breathing. No groaning, no shuffling. And then he could hear the squelch of blood, finally, when he heard feet meet the door, he could safely concluded whatever was out there was human.

Nam-gyu decided it was best to open the door, loud noises could attract more rotters to be around the store, and Nam-gyu didn't feel like having them break in.

"Shit, why don't the door fucking open?!" He heard from someone, likely a woman. Nam-gyu opened it and stepped back, causing her to nearly fall on her face, but instead she stumbled to the front and another man came right behind, closing the door. Nam-gyu frowned at the sound of the dead outside, relentlessly banging on the door to try to get in.

"What the fuck are you two doing here." Nam-gyu said as he lifted the broomstick, and the woman raised her hands in the air while the other behind her just chuckled. "You oughta relax, man. Chilll," and Nam-gyu finally managed to get a good look at him.

Purple hair, a cross necklace, Nam-gyu could somewhat recognize him. He knew him from the club he worked at, he was constantly there. And plus, the guy was a rapper. But he didn't really seem to actually remember Nam-gyu at all, and Nam-gyu was thankful for that.

"Who the hell are you?" Was what Nam-gyu managed out as he straightened up, and yet his grip on the stick never truly faltered, he knew people like him might have gone a little insane or flat out crazy. Better safe than sorry. 

"What's up my brother, welcome to the Thanos world." The man who referred to himself as Thanos said as he took a step forward, right. Thanos the rapper, he was a huge hit among a few people, and Nam-gyu would often bring him drugs. "And the doll behind me is called Mi-na." 

Nam-gyu darted his eyes between them, deciding it was safe for now. "Nam-gyu." He finally said, and hell, they didn't really have much time for acquaintances because of how the door seemed it wasn't going to hold on anymore.

"Look, we don't know you, you don't know us. But we really have to get the hell out of here 'less you wanna become one of them." Thanos said almost nonchalantly, Nam-gyu wondered how could anyone be calm in situations like this. And the other one, Mi-na apparently, looked more worried about the door.

"Whatever, give me your bag." Nam-gyu said, voice slightly wavering as he tried to ease the pit in his stomach. Mi-na looked at him, raising her brow "Why would I trust you? I mean, you could grab it and leave us." Nam-gyu swore that slight tone of sassiness tweaked something in him, but they didn't have time to argue. "Bitch, you want to die of starvation and thirst out there or something?" He snapped.

"Now, calmm down the both of you. You can give him the bag, flower. He ain't going nowhere without us." And then finally, the bag got tossed to him. Nam-gyu wasted absolutely no time in stuffing food and water and whatever else he could fit inside the bag.

He searched around for an exit, the back door was crowded with undead and the front door already had some of them piling up. They had to go either through the vents or.. through the window that led to the opposite side of the shop where the dead piled up, leading to the dumpster.

"Okay, we'll leave through the window or whatever. I'll go first and the two of you come along." Nam-gyu said as he got on top of a stool and pried the window open, it wasn't that big but well, enough to pass through. His hands were surprisingly steady despite how his heart seemed to miss a beat every damn time those things banged a little too hard on the door, it was going to hold but maybe not for too long. 

And then he heard a gun being reloaded behind him, these two bitches had a fucking gun. "Leave us behind and we'll shoot you right through this window." Mi-na threatened, which was mostly fair. Nam-gyu had the bag with the supplies and was going first, but still, it still stung. "You really should relax, Mi-na. This guy's nice, he won't leave us behind. Ain't worth wasting a bullet on."

"Get going, I don't want to have to shoot you. Really, you seem like you can be.. useful, in some ways." Nam-gyu didn't waste any more time, he was out the window. Throwing the bag first before sliding out. He could run now, and risk getting followed or worse, getting caught by these rotters.

So instead, he stayed put. Watching as Thanos slid out of the window with a bit of struggle, and then proceeding to try and help Mi-na. First, he took the gun and slid it into his pocket, and then took her hand. Nam-gyu could hear the glass of the door shatter, making him wince. Mi-na was halfway through the window when she began screaming at something grabbing her feet. Nam-gyu wasn't sure how she made it out, but Thanos' eyes widened and he pulled her forward, making her fall on top of the dumpster and himself fall back with his butt on the ground.

Nam-gyu would have expected her to begin terrified, but honestly she was just pissed once she noticed she lost one of her shoes. "Son of a bitch took my fucking shoe." She grumbled under her breath before hopping out of the top of the dumpster.

"We don't have that much time, let's go." Nam-gyu called out before Thanos could even reply, and then he was basically hopping after Nam-gyu and Mi-na was eyeing him a tad weirdly. Maybe they weren't a couple after all, Nam-gyu thought.

Nam-gyu took a peek around the corner, rotters crowding the place. They would have to make a run for it, "Where do you think you should go?" The woman asked, and Nam-gyu shook his head. "No clue."

"Relax, y'all. Just follow my lead." Neither one of them had time to actually process his words or debate anything before Thanos was running somewhere, Nam-gyu looked at Mi-na and she looked back at him, and to their luck, the dead noticed them.

"Is he high or some shit?" Nam-gyu asked her as they ran after the purple haired man, and really, he wouldn't mind if he was. Maybe he could share some of his drugs, Nam-gyu really felt like getting high right now, forget about his problems and let his brain go dormant for a while.

"Definitely is, I have no fucking clue what it is but hell, it's unnerving." She said, a tad frightened but still keeping up her usual persona as they finally rounded another corner Thanos just turned in, "Come on, amigos!" Nam-gyu frowned, did this dude thrown in random words from other languages oftenly in the middle of danger? He chose to not ponder, and also chose to just stay quiet and getting inside the building that looked like an apartment complex. He then heard the door click shut, a sigh of relief leaving his lips, finally letting out a breath that he hadn't been aware he had been holding.

The silence was a bit too loud, Nam-gyu was slightly uncomfortable. It had been a long while since he last interacted with any other human beings, it's as if it's his first time in life ever talking to one.

"How did you two even end up over there?" Nam-gyu finally asked, he'd be perfectly fine in his convenience store if these two didn't stop by. His words were nearly bitter, annoyed to say at least. Nam-gyu didn't bother to hide the fact he was pissed

"Well, you see.." Mi-na began off, they both wouldn't have been running from a huge amount of walkers if they had been extra careful.

. . .

"Thanos, just fucking leave that shit over there, it's not like you'll ever not going to see a cigarette ever again." Mi-na said impatiently, crossing her arms anxiously as she looked out the window and crossed her arms, tapping her foot on the ground to try to let out some sort of anxiety from her body.

"Nah, you never know. It'll take me just a little while, plus we can just leave through one of the doors that aren't occupied if these little shits come for us, just breathe. I told you I'd protect you, flower." Thanos said as he tried to keep his balance steady on top of a shelf, trying to grab the pack of cigarettes so close and yet so far from his reach.

"You're going to get the both of us killed, dumbass!" She whisper yelled, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, and turns out Thanos should have listened to her. He fucking fell from the shelf and dropped it too, and some of the dead they hadn't noticed inside the place began coming for them.

"Oh, shit. Get going, go!" Mi-na said as she grabbed Thanos' arm and began running out of the door, she would say that she was better off by herself but maybe she wasn't, it was good having someone to have your back, even if that someone is a fucking dumbass.

Thanos kicked the door open, the sounds of groans outside were noticeable, not only the dead inside this place noticed them but the ones on the outside did, too.

"I swear, if you get us both killed I'll make sure you die a very torturous death." Mi-na snapped before being dragged by the wrist, running somewhere that was somewhat not crowded by the undead.

They ran for some time, lungs and legs burning and hearts thumping so hard in both their chests that it was almost as if it was thumping in their ears.

Then they turned around the corner and reached the end of an alleyway, which was to the corner to a store, and they really couldn't climb over the wall. "Go for the door, try to open it!"

"You asshole, if this door doesn't open we're both fucking dead!" Mi-na shouted as she began banging on the door, trying to get it to open desperately. And when it finally seemed they would both die, it opened.

. . .

"That's so fucking stupid?? Why would you waste and risk your life over a pack of cigarettes?" Nam-gyu said, almost incredulous. But frankly? He would have done the same. Sure, it's not drugs but it somewhat relaxes the brain in its own way. But still, he was pissed because they ruined his hiding for so long.

"Listen, you both gotta calm down, jeez. We're all alive in here! All we gotta do is wait, lay low, and just leave somewhere. Maybe part ways, up to Nam-su." Thanos said as he sat down on a nearby table, staring at the ceiling.

"It’s Nam-gyu, and like hell I'll come with two strangers I barely even know, the second everything clears out, I'm gone." Nam-gyu snorted, it was stupid to go with people he barely knew. Or maybe he just grew over paranoid by being alone for so long, but he didn't know a thing about these two. For all he cared, they could both be lying.

"It's not really like we'll need you, but we'll need my bag." Mi-na shrugged, looking out the window and then at Nam-gyu. "Hell no, my supplies are here?" 

"Well the bag is mines." Mi-na shrugged absentmindedly, not really in the mood to argue. "Well, the supplies are mines either way. I'll take them, you take your bag." Nam-gyu said as he already reached to open it.

"You guys both gotta tone down, jeez. We're all friends in here" Thanos said, and yet Nam-gyu didn't quite catch that ending in english. But he just assumed it was nothing good anyways. "Either way, Thanos here will protect y'all." He said with a cheeky smile.

Yeah, as if. Nam-gyu thought, forcing himself not to scowl or anything. Instead, he chose being neutral, looking around the place to examine it, and like he guessed, it was an apartment complex. He slung the bag over his shoulders, he would just explore. "Where you going?" Thanos perked up when he saw Nam-gyu turn around. "Jesus, hop off my dick for fuck's sake, I'll just explore. It isn't like I can leave without getting mauled by these rotters." Nam-gyu said a tad annoyedly, grabbing the broomstick he was originally using as a weapon.

He stayed dead quiet, there could be dead around here for all he cared. Moving stealthily and checking door for door, most of them were locked. And to his surprise, the place was fairly empty, too. Turning around a corner, he found a single rotter standing by a slightly ajar door, turning around as it seemed to notice his footsteps, and it began limping towards him.

Nam-gyu raised the broomstick until it was leveled enough to stab it, once it was close enough, he stabbed it through the neck. Which surprisingly wasn't enough, because the thing began gurgling and reaching towards him. He grimaced in disgust at the blood splattered across his face, stumbling back and dropping the broom he was holding.

'Why the fuck? It should have died.' Nam-gyu thought, conflicted. But he didn't have much time to think when he had a rotter coming at him. He didn't have much to defend himself with, so instead he grabbed the thing by its neck and pushed it against the wall, feeling it's gross hands strong on his arms, as if trying to tear his flesh apart. That's when he shoved it to the ground, pulling the broomstick straight out of its neck and stabbing it in the head instead. Then, the movements ceased. 

Nam-gyu wiped his face, trying to get rid of the blood but his hands were equally just as bloodied. He cursed, wiping them in his clothes and ignoring how his stomach churned at the squelch of blood leaving guts, sighing as he looked around. Then he realized, the door was indeed slightly ajar.

Carefully, almost stealthily, he stepped closer and closer, keeping his grip firm on the stick as he opened the door and held what he was using for a weapon in front of himself. He tapped on the wood, nothing came out. No banging sounds, nothing. He could stay in peace for now, at least.

Shutting the door behind him just as quietly as he did when he opened it, Nam-gyu slumped his shoulders. Sliding the bag off and dropping it into the couch the apartment had. He went into the kitchen, looking for whatever he could find. He couldn't really find much, all he did find was bread, already moldy. Some cookies, which he set aside on the counter. Canned food, frozen tteok-bokki, frozen soup dumplings, and some kimchi.

He separated whatever he could find that would be useful side by side, once he was done with the food, he began going for utensils. Opening drawer per drawer until in a particular one he found a knife, pocket knife. That immediately went into his pocket instead of the counter or bag. Not finding anything particularly useful, he moved to the bedrooms.

The room was messy, he guessed a college student or someone of the sorts lived in here judging by the books scattered around and papers piling up on the trash, practically already overflowing. He paid no mind to that, instead, he began observing the objects, opening the drawers of the nightstand, checking boxes under the beds, and finally opening the closet.

He slid the door to the side, crouching down as he observed, furrowing his brows as he found a box shoved deep inside the place, behind clothes that were long enough to touch the floor. 

He opened it, lips parting as he found a gun in here. Was this person some kind of criminal or?.. but he wouldn't ponder on it. It was loaded, and there was a bit of ammo along with it, he set it down on the nightstand and looked a bit further inside.

All he did take out in the end was a pair of boots that were luckily his side, leather pants that he helped to be hung around his hips with a belt, since it wasn't really staying put. And a jacket, he kept the same shirt he'd been wearing, it was dirty but eh, all clothes would considering you had to kill to live.

He tucked everything into a pile in his arms, searching for the bathroom. He shut the lid with his feet, setting the clothing items down as he began to ease off the ones he was wearing before. He took it as an opportunity to take off his binder, it wasn't something he was quite fond of but it did make breathing harder whenever he ran too much.

It was almost freeing when it came off, he ducked his head down, sucking in as much air as he could before breathing it out. He didn't dare stare at himself in the mirror, he'd just get stuck in a loophole of thoughts over being disgusting. He waited around five more minutes before he put it on again, sliding his shirt on along and then the other clothing items. Maybe this was enough exploration for now, he wouldn't really try his luck with trying to open doors, playing a game of maybe it's open maybe it's not.

And to confirm that this was indeed a college student, Nam-gyu found a bag scattered nearby the couch. He emptied the contents in it, not only swapping what was in Mi-na's bag to this one, but he also put whatever he found inside it. The ammo especially, hidden inside one of the pockets that were well-secured.

The gun, though, stayed inside his pants, hidden by the jacket. He kept the handle just in reach of his hands, it was definitely uncomfortable walking with the upper part of it hitting his hip but he would bare with it, safety came before comfort.

He would have stayed longer, but he didn't feel like listening to the two downstairs yap his ear off. Having in hand Mi-na's bag, he had the other bag he just found resting securely on his shoulders, walking back down the steps to find that Thanos guy well.. serenading Mi-na. He scrunched his nose up but walked in the room anyways. Tossing the bag to Mi-na who caught it. "There, your bag. Now we don't have to fight over shit."

Nam-gyu said as he slid his bag off, resting it on the floor and sitting next to it. Mi-na eyed him suspiciously before opening the bag, checking to see if what was previously in there was still there.

"You got new clothes, Nam-su?" Thanos asked, eyeing him up and down. "It's Nam-gyu." Nam-gyu corrected, seriously- this guy couldn't even get his name right for fuck's sake! "I found an apartment door open, well, was lucky enough to find one." He mumbled right after, tapping his fingers onto his knee.

"Damn, then we all should go try and find some new clothes." Thanos said, leaning forward slightly, fingers absentmindedly tracing the details of the pack of cigarettes.

"I just said I was lucky enough to find one dude, I had to try to open like 10 doors." Nam-gyu frowned, closing his eyes, he needed some sort of rest. Ignoring whatever else Thanos and Mi-na said, his head resting back against the wall, not really taking long to doze off.

. . .

His eyes opened slowly after a few hours, he naturally would expect his shit to be taken from him and the both of them gone. But instead, as his blurry vision focused once again, he was met with Thanos' face. He was hitting a paper ball against the wall absentmindedly, but Mi-na wasn't here.

After a few seconds of silence, Nam-gyu finally spoke; "Where'd she go?" Well, she could have left off to explore, maybe she'd stumble upon a rotter or two but he was sure she could handle herself, she seemed kind of tough despite being so sassy. "Bathroom, went to try her luck with the doors." Thanos said after a few seconds, snd Nam-gyu was glad he answered, he took a slight bit to answer so he might as well guess that Thanos was just ignoring him.

"You want one?" Nam-gyu's head looked to wherever Thanos was, finding a cigarette between his fingers. Hell, he hadn't taken a smoke since this world became a shithole.

"Yeah, sure." Nam-gyu said, watching Thanos pull out a lighter from a small pocket in his jacket, lighting it up and then extending it towards Nam-gyu.

Nam-gyu gladly complied, picking the cigarette up from between the other's fingers and bringing it to his lips. He took a drag, closing his eyes in relief as he felt the familiar feeling of slight calmness. And then, slowly, he puffed it out. Watching the smoke falling from his lips curl into the air and into nothingness.

His eyes opened again once he heard a chuckle, furrowing his brow as he rested his hand onto his knee. "Fuck's so funny?" He asked, conflicted as to why Thanos would feel amused at all. "Nam-su, you're a really funny guy. You look like you just had a sip of water after nearly dying of dehydration." What a weird way to put it, but sure. And then again with his name being wrong.

"How many times do I have to tell you it's Nam-gyu? And well, no shit, really. I haven't touched anything like this for like two months or more." He sighed, looking out the window. The sun was likely setting, the shades of warm yellow and orange hitting against the window glass, illuminating the room ever so slightly where the curtains didn't cover.

"How long you had been holed up in that store?" Thanos asked, finally locking eyes with Nam-gyu. "91 days." The slight surprise on Thanos' face was evident, and then he looked curious. "Damn, and you had food and water for that long? Lucky bastard." Thanos snorted, mixed with a laugh that held a tone of disbelief.

"You've been on your feet since it happened?" Nam-gyu asked once Thanos was done, maybe Nam-gyu did get lucky. "Yeah, met up with Mi-na like a week or two after that. Gotta say she's pretty quick and has good reflexes, nearly knocked me out with a frying pan."

Now it was Nam-gyu's turn to laugh, tilting his head in disbelief. "Seriously? With a frying pan? And here I thought she was bad enough with a gun." He shook his head, a lingering smile on his lips. It had been a while since.. he last laughed or smile. Maybe he did crave human connection after all.

"Ay, when everything clears out, if it does by morning anyways. I hope you'll stay with us, you're kinda cool." Thanos said, and again with that last bit in English that Nam-gyu couldn't quite catch, but he took it as something good- or that he hoped was good. "Maybe, I guess you aren't as bad as I thought. Mi-na is fine, she's just really sassy." He shrugged. "Man, tell me about it." Thanos replied shortly, and then comfortable silence fell over them.

The hours passed, Mi-na came back minutes after their convo was over. Nam-gyu couldn't fall asleep at night, so he opted to staring out the window or watch over the two sleeping. The streets were silent, not much movement. There were groaning and shuffling of the dead outside, but judging by how it wasn't too loud, they either scattered or went off somewhere else in the city.

Eventually, he managed to get some shuteye. It was around six when he did, and just one hour later he was up with a groan. Blinking to get used to the sunlight peering through. He stood up, opened his bag and grabbed a bottle of water, chugging it down halfway through it. Then, secured it back and slung his bag over his shoulders. 

Darting his eyes around, he found Thanos sleeping on the floor in some corner and Mi-na sleeping sat on a chair. He nudged Thanos with his foot, filling his cheeks with air and puffing them out, out of sheer boredom and impatience. "Thanos, wake up man. We have to get going already."

Once he heard Thanos shuffle and groan, and then finally sit up, he woke up Mi-na, then sat down on a chair with his back slumped. "We need to figure out where to go first, then we can get out." Nam-gyu said as he watched the both of them take a sip of water, recomposing themselves.

"We can find a car, and then we can drive off somewhere out of the city and more excluded." Mi-na suggested, closing her bag. "Sounds good, but most cars should be locked, no?"

"We can break a window or two" Thanos suggested, but then shook the idea off, realizing they didn't really have anything to break the window with. "Well.. while we were running I saw a car with its door open, like right on the side of the building. I guess it's safe for us to go." Mi-na added, and they both immediately agreed. "We can get going, then. Get the car and drive off somewhere." It was a good idea, staying away from the suburbs. Once decided, the three of them walked around the complex, looking for a back door or something that could lead them outside.

Attempt after attempt, eventually they found the door. Nam-gyu went first, and the car was indeed there. Mi-na checked for the keys, Thanos was on watch right on the corner, and Nam-gyu was checking what contents were inside the car.

His brows furrowed as he saw two bags inside, they looked in a pretty stable condition. "Hey, Mi-n—" 

He couldn't even really express his findings and worries before he head a gun load behind them, making him freeze on spot. He stared at Mi-na who stared back at him in shock, she stared past his shoulder, looking nervous. 

"Who are the three of you and what are you doing here?"

[jackdaniel69nice]

Everyone has been making tokoyami hc posts but I have never seen one for dark shadow so here you go

Pangender but would accept being called Genderfluid (Idk how to describe it, they want all the genders at once, like gender hoarding) Uses any pronouns except it

Pansexual but a preference for girls (they are a simp)

Polyamorous

Hates feet, will start gagging if they see them, tokoyami uses this against them when they are being a little shit

Had an imaginary friend growing up called Susanoo (yes THAT Susanoo)

They are very BPD or HPD coded to me

Chronic pain from lights because I’m crazy

Can hear the night calling them (no I will not elaborate)

Eyes are very sensitive, they are another weak spot if you can manage to hit them but shadow doesn’t really let people near them. They are SO BAD about taking eye drops STOP SQUIRMING YOU LITTLE-

Makes sculptures like clay or paper machete creations that help them express their excessive emotions

Likes to play sports but has never been given the chance before because you can’t use your quirks (Fumi has never liked sports and would rather curl under a tree with a book thanks)

Loves looking at the stars, they have all the constellations memorized, also has a telescope

Very shit music tastes, their playlists are all over the place

Will emulate/mimic the behaviors of people around them (with the girls they are cute and sweet, unlike with the boys where they are a mean nasty bastard)

Hopeless romantic (really really hopeless cause no one is ever going to date a quirk am I right lol)

ADHD

Likes bugs. Both to look at and to eat. (They prefer slimy ones like worms 🪱 🪱 🪱). They know like every bug in existence ever.

PTSD flashbacks and missing memories/blackouts during some of their breakdowns (rampages) where they commit “horrific acts”

Very creative at insults, also with nicknames, which they hand out like candy

Loves to pull pranks on people. One time they put kaminari’s mattress on the roof…while he was sleeping in it

Has comfort items like a stuffed animal and blanket that they use in their nest

Dysphoria from their appearance and would like a human body, maybe a preference for a female physique, also real feathers

If tokoyami is a Victorian goth then dark shadow is like pastel goth. Lots more purples than blacks, also they wear skirts because 1 they’re pretty and go swish swish 2 they don’t have any legs :|

Likes to hunt little creatures

Has definitely killed someone before (they’re just a silly little guy leave them alone 😔👉👈)

Has a lot of cool hats

Will make jokes to fumikage all the time in his head, they are literally the funniest character and no one even knows it

Also says the most bat shit insane things you’ve ever heard just to see peoples reactions, they think it’s hilarious

Extremely claustrophobic, no more cages, no under ground, not even an elevator. They have been better about this lately but they used to panic immediately and go in a rampage trying to get out (for context Tokoyami’s body feels like a cage to them, and tokoyami would keep them locked up for hours or even days so now they have trauma~~~)

[redditreceipts]

i’ve been looking into a lot of “terf” ideas lately, and it’s been so eye-opening. i was, until recently, what you might call an ally to tras. when it comes to challenging terf ideas, i notice that tras rarely ever even do that. they would just call for violence against these women, which i think was the first thing that made me “peak”. the left has become so genuinely misogynistic (it was always an issue but it seems even more acceptable now) under the guise of trans rights activism. even tras seem to embrace mra ideology on here. i’m constantly seeing posts from them (especially trans men) criticizing misandry like it’s on the same level as misogyny. literally anything is a “terf dog whistle now ( ex. “female rage” using the word “sexism” or even flippantly saying “i hate men”) i’ve also seen so many perverted interpretations of gender from trans people. so many trans women seem to be weeaboos who became obsessed with anime girls, or silence women when we talk about the hardships of growing up female because we make being a woman sound bad. it’s all so disgusting to me and i’m heartbroken because i fear i’m no longer an empathetic person. i can’t find it in me to support these people. i feel like you still have some empathy towards the idea of being trans, and i wanted to know how you were able to do this? so sorry for ranting in your inbox but you seemed very approachable from other responses

hey! first of all, thank you and it's cool that you are here :) I have also been a trans ally for the longest time, but it's become harder and harder to defend them, even though God knows I tried.

I just want to tell you that you disagreeing on a political discussion is not a sign that you lack empathy. It also doesn't mean that you hate the group of people that you disagree with.

I actually do think that the gender critical position is the more empathetic one. For me, being gender critical includes being empathetic to detransitioners, being empathetic to women who feel unsafe, being empathetic to feminine men to which it is suggested that they are actually trans women and to masc women who experience the same. It's being empathetic to people with gender dysphoria who decide to transition but still recognise their own biological sex and to trans people who disagree with the current discourse as well.

And in the end, being empathetic means seeing someone else's struggle and respecting it, but it doesn't mean that you necessarily agree with them on how to resolve it.

so yeah, I wouldn't be worried about not being empathetic enough if I were you, but I do get where you are coming from! Here's a cute cat for you :)

[metaltea]

Just lettin ya'll know I'm ok

(random irl stuff to journal below, keep scrollin)

Wanted to wait to come back till

1. I wasn't dealing with mega gender dysphoria, my masc/neutral days are few and far between but by god it's been nonstop masc/neutral days lately and been a lot of just hating my body (and myself in general)

2. got the ebt stuff figured out, which I haven't yet, my doc put in a ref for a different place to sign a thing, waited 2 weeks for them to call, only to find out it was the wrong place and now I have to wait for the next place to call... which like yea I'm worrying about food but talking about it in therapy has helped somewhat. She reassured me even if that doesn't work we WILL find some place that'll sign the form I need to be eligible again

3. I wasn't dealing with as bad of depression/anxiety which like... idk. I've definitely been doing better anxiety-wise but idk if that's bc it hasn't been as hot lately or I've been feeding myself better. I know I must've been eating under 1200s calories the past few weeks bc the scale finally stopped going down and I know for a fact my anxiety gets bad when I'm hungry so I think for about a month I was unintentionally starving myself, SO making myself eat at least 2 nutritious meals a day now

At the same time I think perhaps my pmdd symptoms are... reversing time schedules??? Usually my anxiety/depression gets way worse before period but now it seems like it's fine before and terrible during/after????? Makes zero sense but who knows. Also it's a couple days late now so health anxiety is going off the shits about PCOS or something again UGH

Making SOME progress with therapy, am able to be outside for 5 mins without feeling that horrific sense of dread so that's something.

I've also been coming to the realization that I may have some form of DID?? Not the type where you lose time/blackout/completely have entirely different memories and starkly different personality switches but I've definitely been noticing now that I've been putting more attention to it how I go into different "modes" and sets of interests throughout the weeks and I mean... it's not secret I have imaginary friends I talk to on the daily. I've had an issue figuring out where "they" end and "myself" begins since childhood. Plus I already deal with derealization/dissociation/occasional age regression so it's not out of the realm of possibility. May bring it up next therapy apt. Kinda worried to bc I never want to get rid of them and I'm worried that would be one of the goals, like... just no. I can't think of anything more lonely.

But yea just random stuff I needed to get outta my system, sorry about all the suicidal stuff, it's just really hard. The future seems so bleak. And if one thing sets me back, like doctor stuff, food issues, etc my brain is like "DEATH WOULD BE EASIER LOL" BUT there's a chance trump/a republican candidate won't win, a chance climate change will be reversed/humanity will adapt somehow, a chance I'll be accepted for disability and live a halfway decent life, and if not... well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But for now there's food in the fridge, for now mom and dad are alive, for now we're ok.

[defectivevillain]

darling i do

pairing: Percival Graves/Reader

The reader experiences gender dysphoria and is implied to be transmasculine/nonbinary/gnc. no pronouns are used and race is ambiguous.

summary: You’re having a bad day, but you don’t want to burden Percival with the details. Unfortunately for you, he is rather perceptive.

word count: 1.4k | ao3 version

This is extremely self indulgent, but I hope my fellow transmasc/nb/gnc folks find solace in this piece. :)

also i'm using this gif again and no one can stop me.

warnings: gender dysphoria

You hear the exact moment Percival gets home—not because he’s loud, but because you’re sitting in the living room waiting for him. You greet him with a soft smile, pretending the gesture doesn’t take an unreasonable amount of effort. “Hi, Percival,” you remark. 

“Hello,” he remarks, the tension seeping from his shoulders as he steps inside and closes the door behind him. Percival takes his bag off and hangs it on the hook near the entrance, before doing the same with his coat. “How was your day?” He asks.

“Alright,” you remark, pushing past all the self-deprecating thoughts running through your mind. You don’t want to burden Percival with the details. “How about you?”

“It was good,” Percival replies, bending down to remove his shoes. “The department’s starting to get pretty busy—sorry I’ve been home late these past few days.” His lips are pressed in a thin line and there’s an apologetic look on his face. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault,” you’re quick to reassure him. Percival is the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, after all. His work is important. “And don’t forget—we have leftovers from takeout the other night.”

“Oh, right,” he nods, taking a few steps forward. “Thank you.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead before walking to the fridge. You watch him for a moment, before settling back on the couch. The television is on, but you find it hard to focus. A maelstrom of apprehension, dejection, and dysphoria is swirling around you. 

You don’t want to acknowledge your feelings. Unfortunately for you, Percival is rather perceptive. He’s an Auror, after all. Not to mention, the man has high emotional intelligence. You’re not sure why you even bother trying to hide from him in the first place. 

For an immeasurable amount of time, you let the light from the television wash over you. At some point, you hear Percival get up from the table and wash his dishes. Before you can attempt to slip away, he’s standing before you. “Something wrong, love?” Percival asks, moving to sit next to you on the couch. His attentive gaze nearly makes you crumble right then and there. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“It’s nothing,” you murmur, looking down at your clasped hands. You bite the inside of your cheek and keep your thoughts hidden. Somehow, your feelings must show on your face regardless, because Percival frowns. 

The man places a hand on yours, prompting you to look over at him. “If it’s making you feel like this…” he breaks off, concern written all over his face, “It has to be something.” You still can’t find the words. Your tongue feels glued to the roof of your mouth; you can’t even begin to describe the confusing torrent of emotions rushing through you right now. 

Percival is stubborn, though. “What is it?” He implores. 

You inhale slowly, feeling as if a giant spotlight is searing through your skin. Sentiments of inadequacy and wrongness refuse to leave, clinging to your skin uncomfortably. You don’t feel right today. “I don’t like my hair,” you eventually answer. Indeed, you’d spent the better part of the walk home from work looking at the people passing you, wondering why you couldn’t look like them. 

“Why?” Percival asks. He doesn’t look disbelieving or skeptical—he simply wants to understand. 

“I don’t know,” you choke out. In reality, you do know. You love your hair, you really do, but for the past few days, you’ve been perceived as the opposite gender more times than you can count. While you’ve already taken steps to socially transition, it doesn’t feel like enough. Your hair seems like the easiest thing to change, and your dysphoria has narrowed in on it as the source of the problem. If your hair were shorter, you’d look better. If your hair were shorter, you wouldn’t be mistaken as someone you’re not. 

“You sure?” Percival continues. His hand remains on yours, providing a reassuring pressure. His gaze hasn’t wavered since he first sat down next to you. The recognition makes your eyes begin to burn. You stare at him, before silently leaning forward and embracing him. Percival is quick to reciprocate, tugging you closer until your head is nearly buried in his shoulder. 

“I’m not sure,” you whisper against his shoulder. It comes out muffled, but Percival seems to understand regardless (as he always does).

“What can I do to help?” He questions. That is just one of the many reasons why you love Percival. Rather than scrutinizing your feelings or trying too hard to understand your experiences, he focuses on assisting you above all. He doesn’t treat you like a puzzle that needs to be solved, doesn’t make you feel irrational or unreasonable for having bad days. 

“My hair,” you choke out. “Can you help me cut it?” 

Percival blinks. “Of course,” he responds without hesitation. He places a hand on your shoulder briefly. “Let’s move to the bathroom.” Percival says, eyes flitting to the door down the hall. You get up from your seat and walk over there, knowing he’ll follow you. 

Moments later, you find yourself sitting on the nearby chair with Percival standing over you. His gaze wanders your face before settling on your hair. “What length are you thinking?” He asks. You’re briefly overwhelmed by appreciation, at the way he immediately moved to help you in whatever way he knew how. You forget that he��s waiting for an answer until he repeats himself.

“Short,” you say, avoiding his eyes. 

“Very helpful,” Percival smiles mirthfully. You huff past the tightness in your chest. “How short?” 

“I don’t know,” you respond helplessly. “Just… really short. Almost a buzzcut.” 

The air is quiet for a few seconds. “Are you sure?” Percival asks. You know he’s not questioning your decision; rather, he’s clarifying that you want him to be the one to do it. 

“Yeah,” you say, your throat feeling tight. There’s no one I trust more than you, you think. 

“Alright,” he says. “Ready?” Percival stills and holds his wand up towards you. You nod silently and he takes a deep breath. “Crinus Muto.” You close your eyes and ignore the strange chilling sensation that runs up your spine, knowing it to be a mere side effect of the spell. It should only take a few seconds, but you keep your eyes closed for a few moments after. For some reason, you’re scared to look. Fear strikes through you as you imagine how horrible you could look. What if you don’t have the right face shape? What if this haircut just makes everything worse? What if-?

“You can look now,” Percival says gently. 

You stand up and slowly open your eyes. For a moment, the light assaults your eyes and you’re squinting. Your vision clears soon enough, leaving you to take in your new haircut. “I-” You break off, feeling your lips pulling at the edges as you stare at yourself in the mirror, “I love it.” You’re smiling now. You bring a hand up to your hair and continue looking in the mirror. Your reflection looks… like you. You look more comfortable, more confident. You can’t hide the grin on your face. For a minute or two, you simply stare at your reflection in awe. As you’re looking in the mirror, you accidentally make eye contact with Percival, who is looking at you with an unreadable expression.  “What?” You ask self consciously. 

He blinks for a moment, as if waking from a trance. A smile grows on his face. “You look wonderful,” Percival admits, reaching out to run a thumb along your temple and across your new short hair. You don’t say anything, but your skepticism must show on your face, because Percival is quick to continue. 

“I’m serious,” he maintains. Percival brings his hands to your face again, turning your head to the side to get a better look at your new haircut. He brings you back with a delicate hand on your jaw and you feel flames race across your skin as you see the expression on his face. Percival looks absolutely lovestruck. Smitten. Surely that isn’t for you—surely that look isn’t because of you. “You look… incredibly handsome.” He confesses. At first, you suspect that he just said that to make you feel better. But the way he’s looking at you—the way he’s holding you—convinces you that the compliment is entirely genuine. 

“...Thanks,” you remark hesitantly. And you’re sure Percival knows that you’re thanking him for more than just the haircut. You’re thanking him for understanding you, in a way few others have even bothered to. You’re thanking him for his endless compassion, his determination, and his unwavering faith in you. 

Percival smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Any time, love.” He promises. You take comfort in the unshakeable knowledge that he truly means it.

Me: *includes pet names a total of two times in this story* Also me: this feels like too much.

grAHHHHHHHH where is Percival Graves. I need him like SpongeBob needs water.

anyway, thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian

[dreamdropsystem]

loving your autistic self is hard

it definitely is we struggle with this a lot because we are a medium to high support needs autistic system and our autism is a disability and it disables us greatly and it causes a lot of stress a lot of trauma a lot of things go on

it's hard is extremely disabling not just that along with that with our other chronic health conditions that are mental and physical just thinking about the autism it's a lot

it's overwhelming it's scary it's stressful it's so much going on but there are positives to autism obviously there are good traits and there are bad traits but we just have a lot of bad traits that we focus on which makes it hard to see the good traits that we have as well

we were late diagnosed around age 18 or 19 but the doctor was surprised that we wasn't diagnosed earlier cause we were "obviously autistic" which is why we need awareness ne acceptance it's cuz people surrounding us didn't know what autism was like for people even in our TLC class of high school which was made for people with behavioral amd mental health issues and some of our classes (just a small few) were autistics aswell

they were like "no no you couldn't autistic" be because we weren't displaying all the traits we were masking not high masking but some what masking and we didn't go through our regressions yet and it is just really really tough that no one helped us or saw the signs until high school. a mental hospital doctor was the one who saw it and told us we should get screened. we had to fight for it for 5 years to get that diagnosis.

really even though now now our mom can say hey yeah this was you being autistic as a child nobody around us knew what autism was because like even our cousin who's obviously autistic only recently got diagnosed autistic around age 14 even though we knew he was autistic but the and he's been in special ed for his entire school life he is intellectually disabled and no one ever said hey I think you're nephew has autism no this was recent the last couple of years insane how people can miss such a big developmental disorder

it is hard being autistic is hard being medium to high support needs plural system is hard needing a caregiver, is hard not being able to have good hygiene, is hard not being able to take care of yourself, is hard not being able to go outside or deal with anything without being overwhelmed and stressed out and overstimulated and scared, it's just too much.

there are obviously still positives loving ourselves is hard and we still trying to love ourselves we love our it's hard to love ourselves with our ED and our mental health issues our dysphoria (gender, body, species, etc) it's hard to love ourself with her physical disabilities and chronic health conditions and chronic illness but we're trying...

[gerrydelano]

Btw, i wanted to ask: what makes you hc Gerry as transfem? I'm more of a nb/transmasc gerry leaning person but i love reading about different interpretations of characters and you are obviously very passionate About it (feel free to ignore if its an uncomfortable question, there's no judgement behind it-im just curious.)

hello hello! no worries, i didn't perceive any judgment here, this is all in good fun! my gerry is on the nonbinary side of transfem anyway (which to me is an important thing to portray in general) but it is special to me both for logical reasons and just because it just feels so healing to me. i wrote a big meta about it here a really long time ago, and answered a more recent ask here, so i'll mostly just link those to avoid being too repetitive.

however, to me (just me personally!) the logic comes in as like... mary calls him gerard. she doesn't exactly strike me as a supportive ally parent who would gender her trans son correctly. eric also refers to gerry as his son, and he died when gerry was like 2, which is a little early for a kid to know they're trans. thirdly, he has a canon preference for a nickname that Isn't the name his mother calls him, which to me can signify dysphoria, and that chosen name happens to be a little more androgynous! plenty of women use the same nickname.

i don't believe canon gerry would have really had much of a chance to explore this side of him, as i also just believe he's a late bloomer, so to me it usually comes out easier in AUs where he's able to live for once. live free of his oppressive mother and her expectations of A Son And Heir, live free of the violence of his childhood and the things she made him do, live as a softer person. i think he would benefit from letting himself be softer, i think he would feel healthier and stronger and more himself if he gained some distance from The Son And Heir archetype forced on him from Pretty Much Birth. there are things to be said about what's expected of "sons" and how awfully people are often treated to try and mold them into the right kind of son, and that's something that gerry's story strikes close to for me.

all of that, and i also just find tenderness in this HC that fills my heart with love! i have gotten to write some really beautiful moments of exploration and intimacy and solidarity through this portrayal of him and it's just been so warm. so many people, especially on this site and especially fucking lately, have been expressing ideas that suggesting that someone might be transfem is inappropriate compared to suggesting that someone might be transmasc, that being transfem is a bad thing or a curse or an insult, and ngl it's all such bullshit.

we need kinder and more loving portrayals of transfeminine people of all walks just in general. and sometimes you just get the egg vibes off of somebody and it's okay. so, yes! i simply think estrogen could have saved her.

[sadistic-softie]

the gender dysphoria has been hitting so hard lately.

As an afab genderfluid, this is the longest number of masc he/him and he/they days I've ever had in a row. The dysphoria has gotten so bad I'm feeling suicidal. I've even been doing voice training and thinking abt taking hrt and getting top surgery even though I know those are out of the question since they're so pricey. I can't stop being jealous of other mens voices and looks. I feel so feminine but in a bad way. It's making me wanna destroy something. Idk what to say now. Wish me luck? Or not, lol.